Memories
by i-love-svu
Summary: A look at Lady Heather Kessler's life, starting with her childhood. Takes place about six months after 'Pirates of the Third Reich'. Rated for dark themes! GrissomHeather


**Disclaimer: As stated numerous times before, I don't own CSI.**

**Summary: A look at Lady Heather Kessler's life, starting with her childhood. Takes place about six months after 'Pirates of the Third Reich'.**

**Author's Note: This turned out so much longer than I ever intended. Feedback on it would be very appreciated, especially the ending. And let me know if you think this would be better if it were broken up into chapters. :) DARK THEMES ahead in one part!**

**All spelling/grammar errors are mine and mine alone. Oh, and before I forget, the italic font represents a memory.

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Heather Kessler often fell into that category of "odd" people. She wasn't shocked by it, but used to it. The labeling had started occurring during her childhood, and had continued all through her life. The dominatrix was sitting at her desk in her office, the only room in the house she ever really daydreamed in. Something about the room just made her think about things; perhaps it was the Victorian styled decorating. That could have been a factor. She always found that style of furniture calming, and being calm made her think more.

Her right elbow was propped up on the desk, her chin settled comfortably in the palm of her hand. She stared out of the window, watching the clouds pass slowly across the grey sky. It was raining; the clear drops of liquid pouring from the sky slid down the window like the tears of a child. She remembered a day just like this one from her youth.

_At age seven, Heather Kessler was unlike any other girl her age. While the girls in her second grade class played with Barbie dolls and believed boys had cooties, Heather would sit on the playground and read. Not the easy books; no, those were far too easy. She read things such as 'To Kill a Mockingbird', 'The Mysterious Affair at Styles' and Shakespearian poems. Her very favorite William Shakespeare poem was 'Romeo and Juliet'. It was a beautiful tale, one she could read over and over again and never grow tired of it._

_Her teachers were worried about her at first, but as they saw this little girl's intelligence exceeded theirs by a landslide, they simply backed-off. _

_Her mother also saw how different her daughter was. She found it troublesome that the little girl with the bright green eyes was constantly reading; she never played outside with the other children. "Heather, why don't you go outside?" Her mother would ask, almost beg, as she flipped her brown hair over her shoulder._

"_No, mommy," Heather would respond, her eyes never leaving the pages of her book. "I don't want to be around them." After two years of trying to convince her daughter that sitting in her bedroom reading wasn't healthy, the woman finally gave up._

Heather blinked a few times as a knock came from her office door. "Yes?" She called, never moving from her spot.

"Lady Heather, you have a telephone call," Lilly, one of her best girls and a somewhat assistant, informed the woman.

"Thank you."

Heather picked up the black telephone before her, pressed the number three button and spoke. "Lady Heather's Dominion, this is Heater speaking."

"Lady Heather, I'm calling to cancel my session…"

The client went on to explain he had come down with the flu and didn't have the energy to do anything. Heather told him to call back when he was feeling better and reschedule. They hung up, leaving Heather to return to her thoughts.

She watched the rain pour down outside in a mesmerizing fashion. For some reason her mind chose to return to her childhood again, but this time, her teen years.

_Sixteen year old Heather sat alone in her bedroom, the curtains closed to block out any unwanted light. The room was unbelievably dark; the black painted walls, black curtains. The only thing in the room that wasn't a dark color was Heather's somewhat pale skin. She had reddish-brown hair that fell just below her shoulders, skin that was so pale yet so beautiful it made people do double takes and her eyes. Her eyes were possibly her best feature, if you didn't know the young lady and her personality. Her shockingly green eyes always frightened people at first; they were so intensely green that it seemed as though maybe she had some sort of condition, or an accident that had made them that shade of the color. But it wasn't that at all. She had been born with green eyes and as she got older, they became more amazing._

_She was reading, as usual. Most of her time was consumed by reading. She read books so advanced most of her high school teachers suggested she be moved to harder classes. The suggestions weren't taken seriously and Heather was stuck in the tenth grade class, bored out of her mind. With a smile she turned the page in her book, her eyes and mind absorbed the words as quickly as possible. When she reached the next page, it was slightly graphic._

_A man was bound to a frame of some sort, his clothes stripped from him and a blindfold over his eyes. He had cuts all over his body; long, thin cuts that looked rather painful. Heather studied the page for a moment and turned to the next one. She froze as she saw the same picture painted out on the next page except this time, it was a woman. Her eyes scanned the page for an explanation when they found the word "Sadomasochism". Heather attempted to figure out the word's meaning and finally decided jus to look it up._

"Sadomasochism; sadism and masochism." _That was the definition her large Webster's dictionary gave. Was it actually possible to enjoy pain? She pondered the answer for a long while before deciding to return to her book. Glancing through the pages, she found it hard to concentrate. She still wondered about the pleasure from pain. Surely it wasn't true; that'd just be insane. With a sigh, Heather continued with her book, but that subject remained present in her mind._

_She dozed off for a while, lying on her left side on the floor. Her brunette hair splayed over her face and her hands tucked under her head, she looked happy but was having a nightmare. She was being held hostage and threatened with death; as the kidnapper in the dream pressed the gun to her head and pulled the trigger, she awoke with a start and sat straight up. Breathing heavily, she realized it had only been a dream._

"_Heather! I'm going to the store!" Her mother called from the bottom of the stairs._

"_Fine," Heather replied with a sigh. She waited until she heard her mother close the front door; as the slam signaled her mother was gone, Heather cautiously exited her room and descended down the stairs. The house was quiet, more so than usual, but that was alright. She'd rather people not be around for what she was about to do._

_The kitchen was dim, much too dark to see anything. Heather turned the lights on and blinked as the bright lights filled the room. She had to think for a moment to remember where the object she wanted was kept. Walking softly, she strode directly across the room to the big wooden cabinet that held all the dining utensils; spoons, forks, knives, thing of that nature. Heather tucked her hair behind her ears, opened the cabinet, and pulled out a sharp metal skewer. _

_The green marble counter was cold against her skin as she placed her arm sideways on it. She had decided to get the object to go through the skin on the top of her arm instead of the bottom; the way she figured, it wouldn't be quite so painful, if at all. She curled her fingers around the skewer, feeling the metal in the palm of her hand. Very briefly, she reconsidered exploring what she had read in the book. The thoughts vanished, and her curiosity got the best of her. Heather held her breath as she pressed the skewer downward, forcing it to pierce her skin. She winced just slightly but the pain wasn't unbearable, and she pressed it further into her flesh. Suddenly there was a blast of pain coming from her wrist; Heather raised her arm to look at it, the warm blood trickling down her ghostly pale forearm. Her eyes widened as she saw the skewer had both entered and exited her skin. It entered where she had forced it, and exited on the opposite side. _

_Her mother came home at that exact moment. She strode to the kitchen to put away the groceries she had purchased with a smile. As she saw her daughter standing at the counter with a skewer through her arm and a blood pool on the ground, she dropped the brown bags and rushed the teen to the hospital._

_The emergency room doctor had numbed the wound and had removed the instrument quickly and painlessly. The nurse wrapped thick white gauze around Heather's wrist and fastened it closed, all the while sneaking glances at the still wide-eyed teen. After being released, Heather and her mother had gone back to their home in complete silence._

Lady Heather shook her head as she remembered the day as though it had occurred yesterday. She glanced at the faded scar on her wrist; they were about half an inch circumference and where not noticeable in the least, unless one knew it was there to begin with.

She swiveled her chair around to face the balcony doors so she could watch the rain from a bigger window. As she swallowed, the dominatrix crossed her legs and allowed her mind to return to its place.

_At school the next day, after the bell had rang and the high school students were running off to their houses, Heather was approached by a girl. It appeared to be only one girl at first, but with a second glance the brunette saw two more girls standing side by side behind the first girl._

"_What happened to your wrist?" The girl quietly asked._

"_That's none of your business," She replied curtly and tried to walk away. The girl stepped in front of her, not letting her pass._

"_You're a self mutilator, aren't you?" _

_Heather studied the girl. She was shorted than Heather by a few inches; her hair was blonde and longer than the brunette's. And her clothes were magnificently better than those of the taller of the two. This girl's family was rich; no doubt about it._

"_No." Heather shot the girl a glare, hoping to scare her away._

"_Why else would you're wrist be wrapped?" The girl grabbed Heather's arm and pulled it upward to inspect the wound. When her hand was by the girl's face, Heather gave her wrist a little backward flit and the sound of a punch landing echoed through the courtyard. _

_The girl's friends attended to her as Heather strode past them with her head held high. Several other students gathered around the girl the brunette had just slapped, murmuring in mock-worry tones._

"_Bitch!" One girl called after Heather. _

_The brunette simply held up her middle finger to the group and turned the corner. Feeling she was far enough away, she laughed until there were tears in her eyes. Once she was calm again, Heather continued home to get started on her studies._

Twenty years later, and this memory still made Heather giggle. Although she wasn't sure why she found it funny, she just did. The telephone rang and she answered it, suppressing her laughter by biting her lip.

"Lady Heather, there is a man on line five and he's requesting he speak to you," Lilly informed the brunette.

Heather thought for a moment before responding. "Has he identified himself?"

"No."

"Ask him to give you his number and I will call him back later," Heather instructed the girl. She placed the telephone back on its base and once again allowed herself to return to her memories.

_One of the most devastating events in Heather's life happened on her seventeenth birthday. She arrived home from school with a smile, ready to celebrate her birthday with her mother. When she entered the house her mother wasn't anywhere to be found. She searched the first floor without any luck, and then moved to the second level of the house. She neared her mother's bedroom with a growing lump in her throat. Something just didn't seem right. She pushed open the bedroom door and confirmed her suspicions. _

_Her mother was lying on the bed, the white sheet pulled up to cover her body. And not one, but two men were lying next to her. _

"_Christ!" Heather whispered as she dashed out of the room. She gathered her things as quickly and quietly as possible, and then left the house._

_It was devastating because it had confirmed Heather's thoughts that her mother slept with the neighborhood men when her daughter wasn't home. What kind of child wants to discover that about their parent? Heather sniffled as she sprinted down the street. There was only one place she knew to go, and whether she was welcome or not would be determined when she arrived at her destination. _

_Heather had not seen her grandparents in over ten years. She thought back to the last time she had visited them, and it had been a day much like the current one. _

_Her father had died unexpectedly during a car chase. He wasn't the pursued one, but the pursuer. He had been a cop, a policeman who was on his way to leading the force. He had been shot in the neck and died in the line of duty. Heather had never met her father; her mother had always insisted he was a 'bad man' and that her daughter would never be around him. That day, at her unknown father's funeral, was the first time she had met her grandparents. They marveled over their granddaughter, hiding their tears over their lost son. Heather was completely unaware why they and so many other people were at the funeral home. And who the man was laying in the casket. Heather's mother stood a few feet away, completely unnoticed, and hating that these people who had detested her loved her daughter. That's why she made sure Heather had no contact with them. _

_Now the teen stood before her grandparent's large house, wondering if she'd even be welcome on their property. The house was possibly the biggest she had ever seen, with the wrought-iron gates and perfectly manicured lawn. The white pillars that seemed to go on forever, the marble porch; yes, marble porch. Heather was seriously considering turning around and going back home, but it was an insane thought. Go home? To her mother? Surely trying her luck with her estranged family members would be better than going back to _her.

_There was no answer the first two times she knocked. But on the third, a shy looking maid opened the door, a small smile on her face._

"_Yes?" The maid, just barely older than Heather, asked quietly._

"_I need to see either Mr. or Mrs. Kessler, please," Heather responded in the same soft tone._

_The maid nodded and then ushered Heather in. As she went to find the requested people, Heather waited patiently in the foyer. She observed the interior of the house just as she had the outside. The ceilings were the highest she had ever seen and actually had murals painted on them, such as those painted at the Sistine Chapel. Her eyes widened as she took in everything. She was so distracted by the house that she didn't notice as a man and woman, her grandparents, approached her._

"_May we help you?" The man asked, his voice so deep it made Heather jump._

"_Oh, um…" Heather wasn't sure how to address the people before her. She decided to go with the obvious. "Hi, Grandpa."_

_The woman standing next to her husband looked up at him in surprise and disbelief. There was no way the stunning young lady standing in their foyer was their granddaughter. It just didn't seem possible._

"_I didn't know where else to go," Heather chocked back a sob. She collapsed into her Grandfather's arms as the tears she had kept bottled up were shed._

"Lady Heather, you need to come downstairs," Lilly shouted from the other side of the door.

"Lilly!" Heather pressed her right hand against her chest. "You scared me!" The dominatrix caught her breath before saying anything else. "Why do I need to go downstairs?"

"Someone is here to see you." Lilly grinned evilly as she exited the room.

Heather was unsure of who would be visiting her, and even more unsure why. People didn't visit her unless they were clients; and if they were clients, Lilly always showed them to their room for the evening and then alerted Heather after they had been settled. She wasn't sure why Lilly would find the mistress beforehand. But she did notice that something wasn't right.

As she descended down the stairs, she heard whispering. It was undoubtedly Lilly and someone else, someone unidentifiable. She stepped onto the landing of the stairs and nearly gasped.

Gil Grissom was standing next to the front door looking so nervous she was sure he'd faint at any second. She swallowed her feelings with a sigh, unsure of whether she'd be able to stand being near him or not. She did not hate him; hate was such a strong word. She did dislike him, but only a very small amount of the emotion existed in her. She tried, oh how she tried, to dislike him more. He deserved it, after what he had done. But she couldn't detest him at all. She hated to admit it, but part of her still had feelings for him, still wondered if things would be different had Gil not been an ass.

"Mr. Grissom," Heather greeted through a fake smile.

"Heather, you know it's not 'Mr. Grissom'. Please, call me Gil." The Entomologist looked at her with a glint of hope shining in his eyes.

"Mr. Grissom, why are you here?" Heather forged her best angry voice. It was odd; she cared for him, yet she couldn't allow herself to be nice or obeying to him.

"We both know why I'm here."

His answer was short and his voice displayed the purpose for his visit. He studied her, trying to sort out what she could be thinking. She lowered her eyes, not able to look at him. Yes, they both knew why he was there: to apologize. And damn him, she was ready to forgive him. Something about him was different, and it drew her in faster than either had expected.

"Yes. I suppose we do," Heather nodded. She finally raised her eyes to meet his; even though they were standing nearly six feet apart, their chemistry transferred to each other quicker than a current of electricity. Heather took a step closer to him, her small grin disappearing quickly. His eyes; his deep blue pools reminded her of Zoe, her daughter. Dead daughter, who was murdered and the reason they had met again six months ago. Gil's eyes were so close to the shade of Zoe's that it brought tears to the brunette's eyes.

"Heather?" Gil asked, his face turning from hopeful to concerned.

She couldn't say anything for she feared if she even uttered a word she would burst into tears. Words or not, the tears were coming and there wasn't anything she could do to stop them.

Gil gently pulled her into his arms and locked them around her shaking figure. She sobbed into his shirt, cries muffled because her face was pressed into his chest. He stroked her hair with his left hand, his right caressing the middle of her back. She didn't want to cry, she honestly didn't, but the tears were unstoppable. Thankfully, Gil understood that.

For the first time in Heather's life, she finally had everything she wanted, despite the moment her needs were met. She felt safe, protected, and loved. And all the while, Gil was the one making her feel that way. It was something she hadn't ever suspected, but was currently accepting of. After all, he was the only man who had ever loved her for what she was; a forty-year old dominatrix, who had been searching for herself since her teens.

Heather stifled a sob as she realized she wanted to be there, right there in his arms. It didn't matter to him if she was crying her eyes out or not; he was there for her. That was another first for her, he cared. He cared more than any other person in her life had. His grip tightened around her as her sobs intensified.

The only person that had ever cared and he had hurt her rather severely. Gil had betrayed her trust on a whim and because of that she hadn't truly trusted anyone else since that day. But now that he was holding her, she felt her trust return. Through the tears of loss she had not wanted to shed, her faith in the two of them as a couple returned.

Gil loosened his arms, but Heather begged him to tighten it again.

"Don't let go of me," She said through a sob. "Please, don't let go." Heather almost feared that if he let go, the feelings she had been longing for would vanish.

Gil immediately filled her request. His arms locked around her again as she began sobbing again.

"I won't," He soothed softly. "I promise I won't."

Heather forced herself to memorize his words, and everything else about him. Her figuring being that even if he broke that promise, if he left, she'd still have the memory of that moment to return to.


End file.
